


i never said that we would die together

by avcnging



Series: nobody said that it would last forever [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, F/M, Missing Scene, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Retrospective, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 08:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19663822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avcnging/pseuds/avcnging
Summary: They clung to each other.  They were each other’s rocks.He had her.  He lost her.After Natasha's death, Steve reflects upon his time with her over the past 11 years.





	i never said that we would die together

**Author's Note:**

> I'm never getting over Natasha's death, her and Steve's character arc endings, and how they never actually became a thing. So here's me coping.
> 
> Title, series title, and epigraph are from Lewis Capaldi's "Forever."

* * *

_Darling, nobody said that it would last forever_  
_That doesn't mean we didn't try to get there_  
_I never said that we would die together_  
_That doesn't mean it was a lie, remember_  
_Nobody said that it would last forever_

* * *

_"Clint, where’s Nat?”_

Bruce’s words echoed as Steve stared at the empty space where Natasha should’ve been standing. Steve’s vision blurred. Everything was muffled like his head was underwater. His mind raced, and it was as if the whole world was closing in on him. Denial. Anger. Guilt. Grief. They came rushing to him all at once.

After a few moments of silence and tears from the team, he took a deep breath and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “Everyone, take some time. We’ll reconvene later,” Steve declared sharply. Some hurried to their rooms. Others walked slowly as if their feet were suddenly transformed into dense cement. Others still remained, not knowing how to react. A few more moments later, only Steve and Clint were left. Clint had sat down on the launch pad, silently sobbing, focus still fixed on the same spot. Steve wanted to say something— _anything_ —but he couldn’t muster up the right words. He didn’t think he ever could.

When the silence grew too loud, Steve finally made his way back to his room. He felt the same wave of emotions rushing back, only it was a thousand times stronger now that he was alone. He locked the door and hurled his shield away from him. The same shield he taught Natasha how to use. The same shield that was fitted to be compatible with her own gear. The same shield they used together in battle. The same shield that he used to protect her more times than he could count. But he wasn’t able to protect her this time.

The shield jutted from the wall adjacent to his bathroom. Large cracks stemmed from the fissure, marring the crisp white paint. He didn’t care. Slumping down onto the floor next to his bed, he buried his face into his hands. He didn’t need to put on a brave face anymore. He let the tears rush out. Steve prayed that somehow this was all a dream that just felt all too real.

He sniffled, reaching for the tissue box on the nightstand next to him, stopping when he noticed the small, leather-bound book he’d forgotten he placed on the bottom shelf. It was a sketchbook Natasha had given him for his birthday nearly ten years ago when she had found out drawing was one of his hobbies. There were sketches in there of everything from flowers, to trees, to buildings, to pedestrians crossing the street outside of cafes he’d frequent. Natasha herself was the subject of a few. His fingers grazed the cover. She'd even had his initials embossed onto it. They were just assigned as partners and barely knew each other outside of a file when she had given him this. They’d shared so much since then, and as Steve leaned his head back on the bed, all the memories of her came flooding back.

From her first "Hi" to her being trusting enough of a man she had just met in a godawful bright blue patriotic superhero suit to launch her off his equally patriotic vibranium shield, he was smitten. Maybe it was just a great deal of admiration at first, but he was instantly captivated by her calm, cool, and collected demeanor and her graceful violence on the battlefield. She reminded him a lot of Peggy, but there was something else about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He soon became eager to get to know her more.

 _Who do you want me to be?_  
He replied by saying that he wanted her to be his friend. And they did become friends. Close friends. Best friends, some might even coin them. But he didn’t think "friend" was enough. They were something more, but even he had trouble defining it. After New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. partnered them up. It was inevitable since they worked so well on and off the battlefield as everyone came to realize so quickly. After long grueling hours of training, they started spending more time together outside of work. What started as cups of coffee at various cafes that Natasha introduced him to in an attempt show him around D.C., turned into lunches in which she had him try sushi and chicken masala and falafels, then dinners at one of their homes (which they tried to cook themselves, but they would more often than not end up ordering a pizza instead when the pans got too charred or the air got too hazy and the smoke alarm wouldn’t stop blaring) that bled into movie nights, consisting of watching classics to get Steve caught up with pop culture, then the occasional breakfast after one of them would fall asleep on the other’s couch (or usually on Steve’s shoulder, in Natasha’s case) while viewing one of the more lackluster films.

They developed a rapport, which they carried with them through missions to make them a bit more bearable. She teased him about his age and his dating life—or lack thereof. At first he’d blush and grow uncomfortable in response to her jokes, but he eventually became able to match her wittiness and sarcasm with his own comebacks. Over time, the line dividing “friends” and “something more” blurred. In between the missions, meals, and movie nights, they found someone they could trust with the deepest darkest details of their lives and someone they would even die for in each other. At some point when they were evading the government, Sam referred to them as a "work husband and wife.” The concept perplexed him then, but he completely understood it now. Natasha took Tony’s side on the Accords. She never forced Steve to sign them. Yet, she helped him escape that day in the hangar. Then she went on the run with him without him even asking her to. They didn’t see eye to eye all the time, but they always worked things out—together.   
  
_If it was down to me to save your life—now you be honest with me—would you trust me to do it?_   
The first time she had been truly vulnerable with him was in Sam’s teal-blue guest room. For the first time, her emerald green eyes shone differently, looking dull and defeated. She let her walls down and allowed him to see a part of her that he assumed only a few people had ever seen. After that day, he placed his complete trust in her. Since then, he sought guidance and reassurance from her with whatever task they were taking on together. When she said that she owed him, he’d shaken his head “no” and said that it was okay. She didn’t owe him anything then. She had already saved him in more ways than one and more times than he could count since that conversation. Moving on. Finishing the fight. It’s what he owed her now. It’s what they all owed her.

 _Where else am I gonna get a view like this?_  
The sadness and acceptance in her tone were palpable as they peered down at the layer of clouds beneath the floating city. This had been one of the few instances in which they certainly thought death was charging toward their doorstep. They could’ve fled to safety long before then, but it was their duty to save everyone they could, or at least die trying. He had looked at her and was glad they’d be finishing the job together.

 _We have what we have when we have it._  
He didn’t really know what they had but it was definitely something more than friendship. They had inside jokes that made them burst into laughter leaving the rest of the team utterly confused. They had a multitude of those shared life experiences they talked so fondly about. They had kisses that were always chalked up to being necessary for their covers, even though they both knew they were testing their boundaries. They had warm embraces that lingered a little too long yet somehow always felt too fleeting.

Too many times they stayed up all night on the phone in silence with each other when the nightmares came so that they could know someone was there with them. Too many times they exchanged slow circles rubbed on the back or gentle caresses up and down an arm. Too many times they ended up in the same bed when one of them woke up sweating and screaming and just couldn’t stop shaking. 

All of this still wasn’t enough for him.  
They clung to each other. They were each other’s rocks.  
He had her. He lost her.

 _I didn’t want you to be alone._  
She pulled him into a hug.  
He didn’t want her pity but he softened into her embrace immediately. What he would give to hold her one last time. Through the years she’d never really left him alone, he now realized. She was by his side when everything they knew was crumbling, when they were on a floating piece of Sokovia thinking that’s how they were going to go out, when they took on the task of training the newer Avengers, when she stayed behind to comfort him after the loss of someone so important to him, and when she went on the run with him for two years. Through every mundane mission, rough fire fight, late night drinking escapade, or conversation about anything and everything that dragged on well into dawn when neither of them could sleep because of their ghosts haunting them every time they closed their eyes, she was there. He was never alone.  
  
_You first._  
She had prompted him to go live his life. At least he was trying, truly. Inspired by Sam, he was leading a support group for people going through the same things the rest of the world was, helping them navigate loss and grief and acceptance, even though he didn’t have such a great handle on the concepts himself. He moved out of the Avengers compound about a year after the snap and finally found an apartment in Brooklyn. Steve thought trying to live a life of normalcy, of routine, would help him move on, but a part of him always felt hollow. He would’ve visited Natasha more often to help out, but she insisted she could handle it all. She said she was fine all alone in the compound running all communications dealing with trying to piece the universe back together. He figured it was her way of coping. Yet, while he was coping out in the world trying to get a life, what kind of a life had she been living? He felt guilty for listening to her.

 _See you in a minute._  
He should've said something. Anything. He regretted not saying something meaningful if anything at all instead of giving her a dumb small smile as if it were any other mission. And yet no other mission they ever faced was as important as this one.

In a literal snap everything was ripped away from them. In one second the world—the whole universe—descended into chaos. In one instant he lost Bucky all over again. In one moment he lost Sam and everyone else. In one minute he lost Nat, too. 

It should’ve been him, not her. It should’ve been them together through the end. It should’ve been a full-blown goddamned tragedy with them dying together in the final act.

If only he could get another minute with her. But time was fleeting. He had come to learn that in war, there’s no time for grief. Instead of mourning, there’s planning the next move, the next play. Moving on. War was an all or nothing game. Natasha made her move, and her sacrifice just might save them all.  
_Whatever it takes_.

He knew she would want him to step up. Be a leader. Finish the fight. She knew he could, or he would give every molecule of his being and die trying.  
_Whatever it takes._

Steve placed the book back onto its shelf. He slowly rose from his seat on the floor and grabbed his phone from his desk to start a new group chat. He scrolled through his short list of contacts, adding Bruce and Clint. His thumb hovered when he reached Natasha's name. Sighing and swallowing another lump forming, he scrolled past and added Thor and Tony. 

_Meet at the dock. Ten Minutes,_ he sent.

On the dock, the sounds were a muffled blur again. Steve could make out that the others were arguing about if they could even get Natasha back.

_Did she have family?_

_Why are we acting like she’s dead?_

_It can’t be undone._

_She’s not coming back._

A tear rolled down Steve’s face.

_“We have to make it worth it. We have to.”_

“We will,” Steve managed to announce, rising from the bench.

 _Be a leader. Finish the fight,_ he told himself again. It's what Natasha would’ve wanted for him. And it’s exactly what he’d give her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> I'm hoping to publish another fic that could be read as a continuation of this pretty soon, too. :,)


End file.
